Hatred is an Infectious Disease
by AmbrosiaJade
Summary: Prop 8 has passed, and Pyro's not too thrilled with that. Written for the Proposition 8 Reaction Challenge over at the dry ice community on Livejournal.


**Title**: Hatred is an Infectious Disease  
**Author**: pyrokitten77  
**Fandom**: X-Men  
**Pairing**: John/Bobby  
**Rating**: PG-13 for cursing  
**Summary**: Prop 8 has passed, and Pyro's not too thrilled with that. Written for the Proposition 8 Reaction Challenge over at the dry_ice community on Livejournal.

John snorts when the blonde news reporter informs him that Prop 8 has passed in California. He takes a long drag off his cigarette and smirks, laughing on the exhale of smoke and it sounds forced even to his own ears.

Leave it to the bigoted, hypocritical humans to make another decision that was not theirs to make. The thought makes his fingers itch for his lighter, but he shakes his head and glares instead at the flickering television. He _hates _humans. No, he doesn't hate humans. He hates the injustices of the world that are tolerated and even encouraged by said individuals. And the world just so happens to be filled with assholes who crave injustice and intolerance.

He's not one for the whole "peace, love, and hope" hippie thing. Hell, he loves causing chaos and destruction whenever he can, but that's just him. He's slightly psychotic, and he understands that as most people do. At any rate, his actions don't affect others on a wide scale and they certainly don't infringe on another person's rights. Well, that's sort of a lie, but that's besides the point.

He takes another hit off his cigarette and realizes it's doing nothing to calm his frazzled nerves and neither is the chattering on the television. He punches the power button on the remote and sits in the darkness, sullen and angry. Another drag and the whole room glows with orange overtones. He grunts in annoyance and squashes the burning end in the ashtray.

His leg starts to jump in nervousness and he sighs loudly and it seems to echo in the emptiness of the room. He hears a door creak open and feels more than sees Bobby's presence in the room.

"John? What are you doing?"

"Go back to bed, Bobby."

He hears the shuffling of feet and Bobby's plopping down next to him, so close he can feel the brush of icy breath on his cheek.

"What's going on?"

John smiles a little at Bobby's perseverance, and it widens when the blonde tries to hide a yawn behind his hand.

"Prop 8 passed." He simply says after a moment, warm feeling gone and replaced with anger once again.

He feels Bobby tense up beside him for just a moment, then it's gone and he's wrapping an arm around John's shoulders. They're silent for a few moments, and John's beginning to think that Bobby fell asleep when he feels an icy press of lips against his warm forehead.

"Let's go back to bed. Let your anger and resentment stay here on the couch and you can pick them both up in the morning if you want."

John nods against Bobby's shoulder and then they're standing up and going to their bedroom. Once they're settled on the bed with John curled up against Bobby and Bobby's arms holding him tight and secure and John's just about to fall asleep does he feel a smile curving against his forehead.

"What?" He asks sleepily, not even sure he'll be awake when his question is answered.

"You know Canada lets everybody get married, right?" There's barely contained glee hidden in that voice and John can barely suppress his own smile.

"Yeah."

"Well, I'd go all the way up there to marry you."

John lets out a startled laugh and pushes against Bobby, who instantly pulls him back and kisses his lips. The brunette doesn't resist and clutches at the hand in his hair. He pulls away smiling, fingers brushing lightly against frozen knuckles.

"You're such a freakin' sap, Iceboy."

They share a private smile and before they know it they've fallen asleep completely surrounded by each other. In the morning, the hurt and anger will still be there but he has somebody that loves him and that's all he really needs.

The rest of the world can go and fuck themselves.


End file.
